


but they love you

by coldairballoons



Series: Intertwined [2]
Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Death, Male Friendship, Multi, Platonic Cuddling, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28544463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldairballoons/pseuds/coldairballoons
Summary: "Is he doing alright? This doesn't usually happen...""It was probably a long day.”William Murdoch's day couldn't get any worse--a bad case, alone, the worst case of burnout the world had seen...
Relationships: George Crabtree & William Murdoch, Past William Murdoch/Liza Milner, William Murdoch & Llewellyn Watts, William Murdoch/Julia Ogden/James Pendrick
Series: Intertwined [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132649
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	but they love you

**Author's Note:**

> So, perhaps this is purely self-indulgent, putting my comfort character into a comforting scenario with the characters I associate with my partners, shhhhhhh, no one needs to know that, but... mm. 
> 
> Anyways, the working title was "pov: sad detective get cuddle"

There wasn’t much that confounded William Murdoch. The logic of the earth seemed to make sense, all the individual pieces clicking into place like a well-oiled machine in his brain. The emotional aspects, while they still did confuse him on occasion, weren’t quite as far-fetched as they had once been. That is to say, interpersonal emotions, the ones from person to person. Romantic feelings, feelings of anger, guilt, jealousy, and joy, excitement, those seemed to make more sense.

Intrapersonal, however? His own emotions, sometimes, still managed to twist his brain into a knot that, though the detective may have tried to unravel it, somehow managed to slip through his fingers.

His mind had been wandering ever since the case had passed his desk, with a little note from George: A poorly drawn smiley face and a few words of comfort, he’d reviewed the files before handing it off to Murdoch, knew how it managed to press all of his buttons. At the time, William had passed it off, but he found himself glancing over at the note while examining the photographs, feeling a sort of comfort burst in his chest, even while his mind stuck in the past--  _ his _ past.

The case was simple and straightforward enough, and already, they’d collected enough evidence to rule the man guilty of murder. Hell, when William finally got up out of his office to go investigate, Watts came running in with a grin on his face and a print, a photograph, of the victim and the man at the time of his alibi, proving him guilty of the murder. William congratulated him on a job well done, brushing aside a concerned look from the other detective, and sent him on his way, but it still felt like his chest was hollow, empty, cold…

He muddled through the rest of the day, his head feeling like a dead weight upon his shoulders, and finally, when it came time to go home, he pulled his coat on and left the office, mind swimming with the mediocrities and lowest points of the day. The note George had written him was stuck into his pocket, and William thumbed at a folded corner of it as he walked up the pathway to his house. 

Deep down, he knew neither of his partners would be home--Julia had been called in on an emergency at the hospital that morning, he knew she wouldn’t return until much later, and James was most likely somewhere in California, marketing a proposal. William was proud of them, really, wholly and truly, but right now, he couldn’t help that selfish bit of want for them, to be held and comforted by them.

The door was locked, the lights off, and William tossed his hat and coat to the coat rack, not bothering to pick them up when they fell to the floor, evidently missing their marks. At this point, the mere thought of doing more than needed was a fantastical thought, and clearly did not need to be done--instead, he headed to the bedroom, flopping down on the bed, fully-clothed, still in shoes, waistcoat, tie, and shut his eyes, burying his face into the pillows. 

It could have been five minutes later, five hours, or even five years later, but at some point, William awoke from a restless sleep to a soft hand on his shoulder, a gentle voice mumbling his name. “William?”

He must have grunted, or mumbled something in reply, because the person laughed softly, combing their fingers through his hair. By the feel of it, the roughness of the voice, they were a man, but besides that, William was too out of it to look more into it. Whoever it was, they were close, and William snuggled closer to them, urging another soft chuckle. 

“Is he doing alright?” A higher voice asked, from the corner of the room, and William felt a shift in the bed, like the man in the bed with him was turning to face the voice. “This doesn’t usually happen…”

“It was probably a long day.” The first voice hummed, and another hand ran through William’s hair. He hummed at the contact, leaning into the touch, and the person chuckled softly. “Yeah, Julia, it was definitely a long day.”

William’s heart leapt into his throat--James? Julia? They were supposed to be out, at work, working, not here… he really had been asleep for a long time, hadn’t he? The detective mumbled something, or tried to mumble something, but his words seemed to have vanished, replaced only with a soft “uhng” sound.

James laughed, cupping William’s cheek, and he felt the bed shift behind him as well, the familiar feeling of one of Julia’s hugs enveloping him from behind. She pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, letting William sink into her arms. Julia was always such a good hugger, she made William feel safe…

Then, there was a knock at the bedroom door, and William cracked an eye open, squinting in the lamplight. “Who…?”

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” James cooed, combing his fingers through William’s hair again. He started to let himself get lost in the sensation, the methodical strokes, and out of the corner of the room, he heard the door open. “Ah, good evening, George.”

“George?” William mumbled, nodding a little bit, and another weight was added to the bed, a soft hand resting on William’s shoulder. “Wh-”

“Hi, Detective, I…” George said gently, and William rolled over a little bit to look up at him. He looked worried, brow furrowed and lips set in a puzzled frown, and William could see how tense his shoulders were. “I wanted to check up on you, sir, you’ve had a hard day, I noticed.”

William rubbed his eyes, nodding--he didn’t quite trust himself with words at the moment. Instead, he looked to Julia, who nodded, holding him tighter. “He has,” she said quietly, with a noise of affirmation coming from the detective. 

“Well, then, is there anything you might need?” The hand was taken back, and part of William wanted to chase that touch, lean into it again--he needed his best friend alongside him, especially today--but the other part of him shook his head, shrugging. “I see.”

“...might you stay?” William murmured, bringing a sluggish hand up to reach out for the constable. He heard a soft chuckle from James, and a little breath escape Julia’s lips, puffing against his head, and George seemed to pause a moment. “You don’t have to, if you’re unable, or busy, I-”

“I’d love to, sir.” George said softly, and William could imagine the small smile on his lips, the crinkling at the corners of his eyes, the slight furrow to his brow. He felt James shift a bit, making a bit of room, and George seemed to lay down, another warm weight pressed against William’s abdomen. 

It was moments like this William was endlessly grateful for their large bed, and though he never expected to be cuddling George Crabtree alongside his partners, he couldn’t find it in him to protest any bit of the contact, the little bit of grounding and “presentness” he felt.

Julia pressed a kiss to his neck, mumbling something, nearly unintelligible. “What was that?”

“I asked if you wish to talk about your day at all.” She repeated, a smile evident in her voice. “And you needn’t say yes, I promise, but… if it would help to talk it out…”

William sucked in a breath, and he could feel his words catch in his throat. He couldn’t go into it, couldn’t talk it through, not again, he’d done that too many times already today, so he dropped one of his hands to comb through his constable’s hair. “...George? Can… could you explain the case?”

A small noise came from George as William’s fingers brushed his hair, and the detective stifled a laugh. “Yes, yes, I-of course.” 

“There was a woman, you see, and her husband… he murdered her, drunk… he was a drunkard.” William tensed up, and James and Julia held him just a bit tighter. “...the woman’s name was Liza, Liza Miller, it was so similar to--”

“Pause, please.” James whispered, and George nodded, looking up at William, who seemed frozen where he lay. His breaths were coming sharply, he was tense, hands shaking, but he shook his head, cracking open his eyes. “William?”

“Yes, yes, I’m…” He croaked, then frowned, clearing his throat. “I’m alright, I… George, constable, thank you…”

George nodded, and reached up to take one of William’s shaking hands, squeezing it. “...I at least hope the note helped, I know it was… hard, beyond belief, sir…”

William squeezed back, giving a small, grateful smile to his best constable. “It… it did--it’s in my coat pocket, though I’m afraid it’s been folded a bit…”

“Oh, nonsense, that doesn’t matter!” That familiar, chipper smile is back, and William found himself smiling back in return, almost without mind. “Tell you what, sir, you just let me know if you’re feeling down, I’ll write you as many more as you like.”

“You’d do that?” 

George nodded again. “It would be my most sincere pleasure.”

Yes, perhaps William’s own emotions confounded him sometimes, but he never expected to have friends, lovers,  _ people _ to help him through them, to help guide him through the worst of times. But as he looked at Julia, James, George, he knew that they would be there for him. And it would be okay.

There wasn’t a doubt about it.


End file.
